Outlaw Moon

by Charlotte Hubbard

  His eyes widened—Midnight was extremely attached to his finery—but then a crafty grin lit up his face. “If you win it, you wear it,” he countered. “In front of God and everybody, as Mrs. Gideon Midnight.”

  Amber cringed. Her single-digit cards would never win any hand, yet she had a feeling the man across from her wouldn’t see it that way. “Shall we just lay down our hands, then? See whose cards take it?”

  “Nope. I fold.” With a high-pitched giggle he slipped the oval-shaped diamond off his right hand and let it clatter to the table. “It’s yours, sweetie pie. Put it on, sugar, so ole Gideon can watch your eyes light up. Should be real close to your size.”

  “But you can’t just fold—”

  “Only a game, darlin’, and I just rearranged the rules a bit,” he said with a chuckle. “Here—let me convince you.”

  Before she could pull away, Midnight grabbed her left hand and slid the heavy gold band onto her fourth finger. He was leaning over the table, leering possessively at her, his narrow, hairless chest rising and falling rapidly with his excitement.

  “Feels good to watch that rock twinkle at you, doesn’t it?” he asked in a sing-song. “And because I want you to have a chance at this other one, I’ll play you one more hand. Then we’ll see how you look wearin’ absolutely nothin’ but my diamonds, Amber darlin’. It’ll be a sight to behold, I just—hic—know it.”

  Sickened, she had no choice but to shuffle and deal again while Gideon gaped at her, undressing her with his bloodshot eyes. There had to be a way . . . she’d never survive the embarrassment, much less the actual ceremony, if this man dragged her to a preacher . . . but she sensed that no matter what she dealt him she couldn’t escape his twisted little plan.

  Just for the hell of it, she let the extra card slip out of her blouse sleeve as she shuffled, and passed Gideon five aces. Her heart was already sinking, and it hit bottom when the little man across from her broke into a giggling fit that sounded like girls at a birthday party.

  “Knew it all along,” he crowed, “and I’ve always suspected you used your little—hic—tricks on every man who came to your tent. Amber, you’re the slickest little—”

  Gideon stood up, still gazing intently at her as he downed the beer in his glass. “And if you think you’re slick now, honey, you just wait—hic—’til our juices start runnin’ together. Be ready when I get back. Be wearin’ nothin’ but a smile and those diamonds, woman. And be ready to beg for mercy when I ride you.”

  His other ring clattered onto the table, and then Midnight strutted quickly to the platform, forgetting to cover himself.

  Rafferty’s right: he’s no bigger than a minute, Amber noted as he bobbed past her, but this was no time for jokes. Propelled by fear and disgust, she slipped the second ring onto her hand, scooped up Gideon’s clothes, and thanked God she’d packed her carpetbags earlier, in case Jack changed his mind about taking her with him. Then she dashed out the other door of her caboose and ran toward the corrals.

  And for the first time this evening, luck was with her. Midnight doted upon his white mare, and he insisted she be walked, groomed, and fed each evening after the crowds went home so people wouldn’t feed her carnival food or ask if their kids could ride the pretty horsey. Just ahead of her, Amber saw Miss Blanche trotting alongside her groom in the moonlight—at this moment, the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen—and her pulse raced.

  “Purvis, wait up!” she called out in a low voice. And when the young man and his charge turned, she saw that the mare was bareback but still bridled—perfect! She ran up to them, concocting the most brazen lie she’d ever told, which was all the more appropriate because it was so close to the truth.

  “Boost me up, Purvis! Gideon wants to take me for a ride—stark naked—and see how many shots he can get off,” she spilled out in a conspiratorial whisper. “Don’t tell a soul, or he’ll have your job.”

  With a startled stare, the groom clasped his hands so she could step into them, apparently too befuddled to ask about the loose bundle of clothes and the carpetbags under her arm. Amber swung onto Miss Blanche’s back and snatched up the reins before he could say a word, and then she wheeled the horse in a tight circle.

  Why hadn’t she thought of this before? The night air blew her hair back, giving her a delicious sense of freedom and power as she galloped away from the fairgrounds. She had no idea where she was going, but she didn’t waste time celebrating because Purvis—and Gideon—wouldn’t stay in shock forever. She urged Miss Blanche along the railroad tracks, heading toward town, gloating over the fact that no matter which train she boarded Mr. Gideon No-Bigger-Than-A-Minnit would never catch her now.

  Chapter 6

  “Dang it to heck and back! When I get my hands on that little—”

  Gideon breathlessly kicked open the door to the caboose and let out a fresh torrent of cuss words when the pain shot through his bare foot. The worthless little tramp made off with everything but his hat and boots! And Purvis gave her Miss Blanche to ride away on!

  He’d seen Amber talking to the groom while he was relieving himself, thinking how like her it was to tease at him a bit . . . perhaps fetch his mount for a little horseplay before they went to bed. But no! The ungrateful little witch told Purvis some bald-faced lie and then off she went! And as he recovered from his argument with the groom, and ransacked Amber’s dresser drawers, he could see she’d been planning this move all along: most of her clothes were gone, and so was all the gold jewelry he’d given her, and the pouches where she stashed her money. Not to mention his two diamond rings!

  Gideon plopped onto a wooden chair, hardly noticing that the humidity made his bare skin stick to its finish. How many shows had he staged to afford those glittering beauties? How many balls had he shot and miles had he traveled to array himself as befitted a performer of his world-class caliber? And now the only things of real value that he’d ever owned had disappeared with Amber LaBelle, the honey-skinned waif he’d taken under his wing. It was enough to make a grown man cry.

  Minnit glanced peevishly at his empty beer glass and then dashed it against the wall. He was vaguely aware of a movement by the open door, but he was so muddled by the beer and so distraught over Amber’s betrayal that he didn’t look up. It was probably Purvis come crawling back to beg for his job—and he never wanted to see that idiot again! So he sat there, naked except for his Stetson, swinging one leg in his dejection.

  When Felicity Nunn peeked in at him again, she had to grit her teeth to keep from laughing. She’d trailed the marksman since the show let out, hoping to express her admiration for his equestrian talents, and the last few hours had proven even more entertaining than his Wild West Extravaganza. Watching him guzzle beer and peel off his clothes while that dark-eyed cardsharp took advantage of him was worth the risks of almost getting peed on and ducking shards of glass a moment ago. The proud blond king of the ring, without all his padding and flamboyant finery, now resembled a scrawny, plucked chicken wearing a white hat. It was sublimely ridiculous. Just what Gideon Midnight deserved for forcing that woman’s hand with his boastful advances!

  And it was the sordid sort of situation Felicity knew how to use to her own advantage. With a last glance between his legs ...it was lolling limply, about the size of her thumb ...she composed herself to play this game to the hilt. Men—especially twits like Midnight—were such easy marks.

  “Excuse me, I—I seem to be intruding at a bad time,” she said sweetly. “But I saw how that despicable bitch rode off on Miss Blanche, and perhaps I can help.”

  Gideon blinked. The voice was tender and melodic, like that of a fairy queen, but nobody around here fit such a description! When he raised his head and saw a lovely lady smiling at him, her golden hair aglow in the lamplight, he gave her a besotted grin. Then he realized that this was no dream. She was real, and she was looking him over, and he was—

  He stood up too suddenly, yelping when the chair stuck to his butt, and hurriedly c
overed his crotch with his hat. “I didn’t know anyone was—my God, you—”

  “No need to be embarrassed, Mr. Midnight,” she cooed, looking him up and down with a purposeful smile. “I stayed until after the show to congratulate you on your superb performance, and . . . well, it’s easy to see you’re every inch a man to be admired, Gideon. May I call you that?”

  “I—of course.”

  “Good. May I join you?” Felicity asked with a coy smile. “As I said before, I was appalled at the way that hussy stole your wonderful mare, and I’d like to help you get her back.”

  Gideon was speechless. Had he really consumed that much beer? Or was there an expensively-dressed blonde coming in here, with green eyes that couldn’t seem to stop gazing at him? She sat down across the table from him with the self-assured grace of a cat, taking in his nudity as though ... as though she liked him.

  “Holey shirt,” he mumbled, and he quickly sat down again so he was visible only from the chest up. “I—I don’t think I caught your name, dear.”

  “Felicity. Mrs. Felicity Nunn.”

  Married! Now, Hercules, you settle down before—

  He cupped his wayward manhood, and then had no choice but to clasp the slender hand she was extending toward him. Felicity was obviously a woman of rare breeding and exceptional taste, and her kindness moved him to press her jeweled fingers to his lips. She made him feel like Gideon Midnight, champion all-around shot of the world again, and he straightened proudly in his chair. “Your sentiments are greatly appreciated, my dear. But surely, if your husband finds you here with me—”

  “I’m a widow,” she sighed.

  “—he’ll assume we’re . . . well then, if you’re a woman alone,” Midnight continued in a lighter voice, “this might just turn out to be the luckiest night of my life.”

  He tried valiantly to clear the alcoholic fog from his mind, but after studying her for several moments, Gideon still made her out to be a beautiful woman who wanted his undivided attention—ladies from the audience often sought him out this way. Yet she was bold enough to be offering him her help.

  How much of that incriminating scene between him and Amber had she witnessed? And where had she been, all this time since the show? When Mrs. Nunn squeezed his fingers, however, those trivialities evaporated like liquor fumes and Gideon found himself smiling broadly at her.

  “It’s good to see you feeling better,” Felicity purred, leaning closer. “And before we pursue this matter, may I ask you a personal question?”

  He blinked. “I suppose so.”

  “Was that woman your fiancée? Your lover?” she queried slyly.

  “Come again? I mean—”

  She laughed low in her throat, knowing this silly little man would love it—knowing he’d eat out of her hand or anywhere else, if she told him to. “I couldn’t help but notice your diamond rings—so impressive when you were performing. And I also saw that when she ran out on you, she was wearing them. Were they a gift? Or did she steal them, along with your horse?”

  Seeing that she was truly incensed by Amber’s behavior, Gideon decided to trust her with a confidence. “I...I was working up to a marriage proposal—just stepped out for some air before declaring my honorable intentions,” he said somberly, “and the next thing I knew she was running out on me, chasing after that blasted Jack Rafferty.”

  She’d been ready to snicker at the lie Midnight was weaving about their strip poker game, but she stopped short. If that gypsy-looking woman was not only a thief but was also connected to Rafferty ...the possibilities made her grin wickedly. “This is perfect, Mr. Midnight! Please accept my help in recovering your rings and Miss Blanche. I can—”

  “What’re you saying?” he demanded, suddenly needing to relieve himself, but this was not the time! “You keep talking about going after Amber—”

  “I’m traveling with a topnotch detective, Gideon. When I tell him how—”

  “Come again?” Midnight scowled and wondered if her grasp on his hand was turning his mind to mush. “I appreciate your sympathies, Mrs. Nunn, but I don’t understand why you’d offer me the services of a—”

  “Jack Rafferty killed my sister.”

  His jaw dropped. “He is a murderer? Amber said they were old friends, you know—and the more I think of it, the more I realize they’ve probably been planning this getaway for weeks.”

  Felicity watched the anger bubbling in his watery blue eyes and knew she had him hooked. “I’m sure Jack’s told some incredibly brazen lies, but that doesn’t change the fact that he killed poor Bitsy. I vowed on her grave I’d see him hanged, Mr. Midnight.”

  “I—I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “But together we can avenge it, don’t you see?” she said eagerly. She leaned over the table, gazing intently at him—and hearing the footsteps outside that would clinch the situation. “Jack cost me the only family I had left, and Amber stole your rings and—why, how can you continue your Wild West Extravaganza without Miss Blanche?”

  He hadn’t thought of that, and the revelation kicked him in the stomach. “You’re right! That thieving little harlot—”

  “She stole your very livelihood, and she’s chasing after Rafferty—whom I want—so we may as well stick together and fight, Mr. Midnight!” Felicity cried out. “We’ll be an unbeatable team, and—and there’s the man who can make it all happen for us!”

  Booth Watson was filling the doorway of the caboose, scowling at them—as she knew he would be when he finally found her—and her pawns were all in place. “Mr. Watson!” she sang out. “We haven’t lost Rafferty after all! Gideon’s girlfriend just stole Miss Blanche to chase after him, and she’ll leave a trail any of us could follow!”

  “Then get on your horse and let’s ride,” Booth replied in a coiled voice.

  Felicity’s mouth clapped shut. The detective was obviously not impressed with the lead she’d just handed him, and he certainly wasn’t amused. He stepped inside and filled the cluttered caboose with a presence as awesome as the legendary lawmen of the untamed West, men whose exploits had always made her weak in the knees as a girl. Watson wore a leather vest and a blue chambray shirt that matched his eyes . . . which were frozen over like wintry ponds right now. Better to ease him into this, or she’d lose him.

  “But . . . but it’s two o’clock in the morning,” she whimpered.

  “Is it?” he shot back. “Then that makes it about three hours after you were supposed to meet me, Mrs. Nunn. Three hours that I’ve spent hunting you instead of chasing after Rafferty. He’s holed up in Omaha by now. Or, more likely, he’s on a train to God only knows where.”

  Felicity nipped her lip, so damned excited she could hardly sit still. Booth Watson was the burliest, most uncompromisingly male person she’d ever met—what a contrast he and Gideon made! But she couldn’t let on that his bold sensuality was the most compelling reason she’d hired him, rather than finding a detective closer to home.

  “I—I’m sorry about this setback,” she said meekly. “But don’t you see how things have worked out? How hard could it be to follow a woman on a milk-white mare? She’ll lead us right to Rafferty! And since Gideon here knows her habits and wants to recover his rings, he can go along to—”

  “Forget it!” Watson snapped. “I refuse to take anyone else along.”

  “But he’ll have to close the show without Miss Blanche!” she pleaded. “The poor man! After watching him perform, and then witnessing the theft of his horse, and his clothes and his jewelry, I feel compelled to offer him your services. I’ll pay his fee, of course, until his property’s recovered. It’s the least I can do for such a—a star!”

  Watson clenched and unclenched his fists, his face clouding over like a thunderstorm. Then he glanced at Midnight. “Would you excuse us, sir?” he asked pointedly. “Mrs. Nunn and I need to have a little chat.”

  Watson watched the star marksman’s rear end disappear out the door into the darkness, wondering what the hell he’
d walked into. Hours he’d traipsed around these fairgrounds when he realized Felicity wasn’t going to meet him, and his comely client acted as though it were an everyday thing to sit talking to a nude man in another woman’s quarters at two in the morning. It made everything she’d told him back in his Colorado office smell suspicious, just as his partner Scott had warned him, insisting they not take Mrs. Nunn’s case. Now he’d better see how her present story compared to her original one.

  He removed his hat and smoothed his hair. “Let’s review the facts,” he said with an impatient sigh. “It’s been a long day, Mrs. Nunn—two weeks already on the trail of Jack Rafferty—and I need to know exactly where you stand. I was this close,” he emphasized, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger, “and because you held me up, I missed him.”

  Her lip quivered. “You . . . you don’t believe what I’ve told you?” she bleated. “Why would I lie about Jack, when I want him back so badly?”

  Good question, Booth mused, but he reminded himself to relax, looking into her pale green eyes to catch the slightest flicker there. “I just want to be sure I’ve got everything straight,” he said in a softer voice. “Want to confirm that what you’re telling me and what I’m hearing are one and the same.”

  Felicity nodded forlornly and sat back against her chair. Watson was a gentle giant despite his impatience, and she saw this as her chance to get closer to him . . . convince him to stay on her case even though her actions appeared contradictory. And now that Gideon Midnight was involved, she would have to speak very, very carefully to both men.

  “I traveled all the way to Colorado Springs to hire you,” she began with a weary sigh, “because to rescue Jack before some bounty hunter claimed him, I had to hire the best Jack always talked about the mountains, and I sensed he might be there. It was fate, to find that wedding picture in the photographer’s window, and to be on his trail so quickly, after not seeing him for more than a year.”